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Chapter eleven
Ben
A tiptoeing warmth creeps over us both as she sleeps peacefully. The sun sneaks into the sky and over the space with comfort and the promise of a new day, breaching the wide window beside the bed as a soft breeze brushes over where she rests and I move from her side.
She spent the entire night curled into me, her hand over my heart and her leg tucked over mine and I had lay still - terrified to wake her.
I shift slowly, untangling our limbs and slipping out of the bed without jostling her, and move to the window by the fire escape. I climb out and I let go of all the pain I’ve been afraid to release in front of her.
All of it.
Isitwithmyhead in my hands in the early morning briskness, my mind reeling as I sneak glances over to where she is, peaceful for now. I think over every tiny detail of her night with painstaking intensity. In her fear, her arms wrapped around me like a vice, her face had been buried into my chest and I had obsessed over the details she had shared; memorised it all as if I had been there. But if I had been there she wouldn’t have had a single mark left on her skin. If I had been there, she would have come home laughing, probably calling me names, but laughing still. If I had been there, she would have climbed into bed safe and alone and calm. She wouldn’t have needed someone here all night to hold her and to comfort her. She wouldn’t have needed me.
I sigh as I lift my eyes to the street below me. People go about their Saturday morning with a lazy ease - some wandering without care to their next destination, others taking quick steps to another morning of work. I watch as a woman, a little older than Mik, walks hand in hand with a little boy; swinging their arms and laughing as he grins up at her, and I feel myself soften.
The breeze ruffles the dark curls that bounce over the boys eyes and he pulls from his mother’s hold, running to another woman, older and grey, with wide arms and a warm smile. In an instant she’s on her knees holding the child, grinning from ear to ear, and I pause to imagine that I can hear her voice over the steady hum of city traffic. I imagine it’s soft and comforting. I watch her pull a parcel out of her bag and hand it to the child just as the first woman reaches them. The older woman pulls her into a warm embrace before glancing down to the boy and laughing as she says something; eyes wide and welcoming.
The three of them walk together, the child holding them both and I imagine them taking my worries away with them, banishing them with their laughter and smiles.
This whole exchange takes place so perfectly before me and my mind wraps around it. I want to cling to it. I want to hold it as a reminder that the world isn’t as dark as it had seemed last night; that there is good out there to counter the shit in the world. There is good out there to counter the shit Mik has been through.
Mikaela
When I wake up, Ben isn’t beside me.He doesn’t hear the way I whisper his name, or see the way my arms reach out for him only to come up empty as my eyes open.He doesn’t see the bitter disappointment that I woke without his arms around me.
I push myself up when I realise I’m alone.
For a moment – a single, blissfully kind moment – I consider the idea that it may have all been a brutal nightmare. A nightmare that felt real but wasn’t. I stretch out, yawning as my t-shirt rises and glance down.
The familiar phantom ache is different today; much more raw, more intense, and when I see the splattering of obsidian against the white of my hips I know why. The nightmare is very real. Images flood my mind and I stumble out of the bed and towards the bathroom as nausea rushes through me.
Ben
“Shit,” I jump as Mik flies past the window and darts into the bathroom.
I follow quickly, clambering back through the open window and racing to the door left ajar, as she throws herself over the toilet bowl and heaves.
Pushing to her side, I crouch behind her and gather her hair as she pukes, stroking her spine with my free hand.
“That’s it,” I soothe. “Get it out.”
Mikaela
I choke as I cling to the toilet, tears streaming when I gasp for breath between each heavy convulsion of my stomach, and I screw my eyes closed. Focusing only on the slow, steady movement of his palm against my back, I try to drown the world out as I expel everything I have inside me.
When there is nothing left in my stomach, I drop against the tub and grab some tissue to wipe my mouth before flushing it all away.
Ben gets to his feet, glancing down at me as I sit trembling, and sighs. I know that look too well; I’m a mess.
“I’m going to get you some water and you need to eat something. You have anything in?”
His voice is gentle and I think that makes everything worse.
I sniffle as I shake my head, staring up at the ceiling.
“Right.” He shuffles where he’s standing. “Then I’m going to the store. I’ll be back soon, just -”
At his hesitation I turn my face to him.
